


Timing

by Tarlan



Category: Ignition (2002)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-24
Updated: 2002-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The difference between life and death is sometimes just a matter of timing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timing

John Taylor swore profusely when he realised that he had left the keys to Scanlon's apartment on the other set that were still in the truck. He walked back, shaking his head in annoyance, and climbed in. He reached over the passenger seat to the glove box and swore again as the keys slipped from his fingers to clatter into the passenger foot well. When he looked up he saw two people climbing out of a car parked right at the front of the apartment building. They seemed such an odd couple. The man was tall and broad with short hair and a square chiseled face. He looked hard and mean with his mouth set into a grim but satisfied line. The other was a tall, leggy colored girl with short-cropped hair and an equally hard face. Despite her figure, he had a moment of doubt and wondered if 'she' was actually a 'he', but then they were gone as they stepped inside the main entrance to the building.

John dismissed them from his mind almost immediately. He stepped into the elevator carrying just the basic equipment, not expecting to have much to do as he had cleaned Scanlon's pool after a party four days earlier. He'd considered not bothering to keep to his regular schedule this week but he prided himself on his reliability... and Scanlon had not told him to give it a miss today. He leaned against the wall as the elevator rose the eight storeys to Scanlon's apartment, humming tunelessly to himself as he considered how lucky he was. He had started in the pool cleaning business five years earlier to supplement his job as a lifeguard down at the Lido, and soon discovered that it paid far more. Still, he enjoyed working at the Lido and continued to spend several evenings and one full day a week there as a paid lifeguard, even expanding that role into instructor. Working with kids was the most fun, seeing their faces light up the first time they start to swim without the aid of floats. He smiled as he recalled the 'special needs' kids that also came along to the pool, some from the nearby hospital as part of their physiotherapy, and how their disabilities disappeared as they entered the water. The pool cleaning might pay well, but John gained a greater sense of achievement on those days at the pool.

As the elevator door slid open he stepped out and walked along the corridor towards the roof access. He frowned as he heard the sound of raised voices coming from the inside one of the two large penthouse apartments, pausing mid-stride in consternation when he realised the door to Scanlon's stood slightly ajar. The voices receded and John pushed the door open a little further as he softly called out Scanlon's name, but there was no response. The phone began to ring, and he jumped back in shock, berating himself for the uneasy feeling that swept over him. No one came to answer it but force of habit made him walk briskly towards it. He paused over it for the briefest of moments before deciding that it was not his business to answer calls, though he *was* surprised that the answering machine didn't pick up... but that was Scanlon's concern and not his. Shaking his head, he looked up the open plan stairway knowing this led to the pool. He knew this because Scanlon was a friendly type who had often invited him down these same steps into the apartment for a cool drink after he had finished cleaning the pool. The door leading to the rooftop pool stood open and he could hear the muffled voices of two men discussing something heatedly. He recognized one as Scanlon's, thereby confirming that Scanlon was upstairs beside the pool. John froze, uncertain whether to go up or not, but he'd taken the key to the rooftop access as a symbol of trust that he would come when necessary to undertake his well-paid task -- whether Scanlon was there or not. Feeling a stab of guilt for being inside the apartment uninvited, John walked back to the outside corridor. Familiarity had jaded his awe of the paintings and furnishings, so he no longer stopped to admire the Bauhaus feel to the modern apartment as he made his escape. He picked up the equipment he had left beside the door and walked to the rooftop access stairs.

As he unlocked the door at the top and pulled it open, John heard the splash of a body entering the water and he frowned, wondering if Scanlon had not been expecting him this week after all, and was using the pool. He turned at the hollow echo of several sets of quickened footsteps receding along the corridor, hearing the hum of the elevator as the door slid closed and it glided back down to the ground floor. There was only silence from the pool now. No splashing, no slapping of water against the sides, and no voices.

Stepping over the low wall separating Scanlon's property from the rest of the rooftop, it surprised him when he could see no sign of Scanlon lounging about outside and he figured the man had gone downstairs. Below, the phone started ringing again but, once more, Scanlon seemed to be ignoring it. John looked over the quiet, crystal clear blue water, settling his thoughts on the task ahead... and his eyes widened in startlement when he recognized the familiar shape of a body floating on the surface. Years of experience kicked in and he stripped off his jacket while, simultaneously toeing off his canvas pool shoes. He dived cleanly into the crystal water, surfacing beside the body and turning the man over.

It was Peter Scanlon.

With firm strokes, John hauled the body to the edge of the pool by the steps and manhandled Scanlon from the water, fighting against the waterlogged clothing as he dragged Scanlon onto the poolside. He checked the pulse point and found nothing, his eyes surveying the pale features and blue-tinged lips that told him Scanlon had been starved of oxygen long enough to stop his heart.

All his long experience and training came to the fore as he started CPR, placing his mouth over the slack lips and forcing air into the water-filled lungs. In between he massaged the stilled heart. Minutes past as he fought to revive Scanlon, determination keeping him going when part of him had already decided that Scanlon may have been in the water too long to save. He was about to give up when Scanlon coughed, spewing up water from his lungs. John rolled him onto his side and held his head, supporting him while more water flooded from the man until it became a trickle. He felt for the pulse point, finding it thready and weak but stable enough for John to risk going for his jacket.

He pulled his cellphone from the inside pocket and punched in 911, flopping back beside Scanlon and covering his cold body with the jacket while he gave all the necessary information and directions to the operator. Within ten minutes he could hear sirens below, and waved frantically as the paramedics reached the top of the rooftop access stairs. They dropped down beside the unconscious man, asking him questions while they worked swiftly to stabilize Scanlon.

John felt a hand on his arm and allowed himself to be drawn back by a police officer, part of him wondering when the Police had arrived. However, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off Scanlon, almost convinced that he would lose the man if he did. He barely heard the questions being asked of him by the police, focusing instead on the paramedics as they ran hands along the long and lean body. He saw one carding his fingers through the short dark hair, stopping to indicate a lump the size of a small chicken's egg on the back of Scanlon's head.

"Did you see anything suspicious on your arrival?"

"What?"

The Paramedics were preparing to transport Scanlon to the ambulance, and John stood up to watch.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"He's alive... and barring complications he should stay alive but..." The Paramedic shook his head. "But it all depends on how long he was in the water."

John nodded, remembering three years back when he had pulled a teenager from the water. Four minutes, they said. Four minutes without oxygen before the brain starts to shut down and the cells die. Beyond that there was a strong possibility of brain damage --if the victim lived. The teenager had been under for more than five minutes and John had often wondered whether he'd done the kid any favors by saving his life. The parents seemed to think so, even though their son had suffered brain damage.

He thought back to the moment he heard a body hit the water, wondering if that was when Scanlon had fallen in. Had it been over four minutes before he noticed him floating face down on the surface? Time had seemed to stand still while he was dragging Scanlon from the pool and trying to resuscitate him. Had he done Scanlon any favors in bringing him back? He wondered if there was anyone special to Peter Scanlon who would agree that he'd done the right thing. Only time would tell.

"Sir? Did you see or hear anything unusual prior to...?"

John turned back to the questioning police officer, his thoughts centering on the odd couple who had arrived at the same time as himself. He wasn't certain and if he had not heard more than one set of footsteps going back to the elevator then he'd have dismissed them completely but...

"There was a man and a woman. They got out of a car and entered the apartment block just ahead of me. They didn't see me."

He thought about timing, and how a few seconds might have made a difference over whether he had lived or died. If he had not left the keys in the truck, if he had delayed too long in Scanlon's apartment, then the killer might have seen him -- and dealt with him accordingly.

"Can you describe them?"

"Uh... yes... and I'd recognize them if I saw them again... but they might just be new tenants or visitors to some--"

"Would you be willing to come down to the station and--?"

"Sure. Certainly, though it might just be--."

A thick towel was dropped over John's shoulders and he looked up in surprise at the second police officer.

"Took it from the bathroom downstairs. I'm sure Mr. Scanlon won't mind."

"Thanks."

It was only then that John realised how chilled he was despite the heat of the day. He knew it had everything to do with a form of shock, coming down from the adrenaline high that had given him the extra strength needed to drag Scanlon's waterlogged body from the pool -- and to save his life.

He allowed himself to be led away from the pool as more Police officers arrived to set up an investigation into a possible murder attempt.

-ooOOoo-

Faith Mattis sat down behind her large mahogany desk and placed her head in her hands. The last two days had been fraught with danger both to herself and to those she knew and cared about and, only now, had the sheer magnitude of it hit her. Now, she was reeling from the far-reaching consequences of what she had believed to be a fairly uncomplicated investigation into an alleged conspiracy within the US Army. Who was to know that the conspiracy reached to the highest levels; that it had involved people from the lowest ranking to Generals? She had thought the MC111 case would have little impact on the country as a whole but, after seeing the true extent of Operation Glory, the lengths to which General MacAteer had gone to protect his interests no longer stunned her.

It had all started during Desert Storm when a unit had intercepted a consignment of Morphine and started to sell it on the black market. MacAteer had discovered the crime but, instead of handing the criminals over to a military tribunal for fit punishment, he had taken over the leadership of their operation and dropped the charges against the unit. Over the years the operation had grown in size until it encompassed more than just the odd consignment of drugs. The Seattle Dock had been filled with containers that held ammunition, weapons, drugs and other ordnance that MacAteer sold in lucrative business deals to foreign powers.

Silently, she considered what had started the sudden rush to silence the original perpetrators of the crime. Had someone talked... or threatened to talk? Had they been attempting to blackmail MacAteer? MacAteer had only one choice if he was to survive with his rank and privileges intact. He had to wrap up the operation so that there was nothing for any investigators to find. However, that would mean removing anyone who couldn't be trusted with the truth.

The next major stumbling block had been the President of the United States. Why had the President been pushing ahead so strongly with his program of military reforms? His timing had been impeccable. Had someone leaked information concerning Operation Glory at the highest level of government?

Whatever the case, the speed with which those reforms were to be implemented would have left MacAteer completely exposed. However, he could not stop the reforms from taking place, only slow them down, and even that would not be possible without removing the main driving force behind them -- the President himself. The beauty of his assassination plot was that no one would ever have been able to prove that it had not been an accident. The President had arrived to watch the launch of a new communications satellite but the fireball erupting from the launch pad would have obliterated him along with all the evidence.

Once more it had come down to timing, with Gallagher disarming the bomb only seconds before it would have triggered a massive explosion.

So where did Peter fit into all this?

Faith looked down at the message lying on the desk before her from the Seattle Police department detailing the attempt on Peter's life. Even now he was in a coma from which he might never awaken.

Why had he betrayed her to MacAteer?

Her thoughts drifted back to that last telephone conversation and she realised that his relief on hearing that she had not been hijacked had swiftly turned to a strained exchange. Her initial reaction had been one of fear, that he would attempt to investigate Operation Glory for himself. He'd been looking for a break in the reporting world for some years and maybe he had seen himself as another Bob Woodward or Carl Bernstein, with Operation Glory as his Watergate.

'He said... I love you', she whispered within the silence of her chamber.

His words had sounded so ominous, like a death's knell -- and soon after, she and Conor Gallagher were running for their lives once more. Gallagher had been right. Peter was the only one who had known where to find them and a trace on his phone had revealed that he had made a call to MacAteer's private line immediately following their conversation.

Why, Peter? Why did you do it?

Peter paid for his mistake in trusting MacAteer -- almost with his life -- and Faith had no doubt at all that the two people seen near his apartment at the time of the attempted murder were none other than Major Brunson and Lieutenant Rayne. Both of those officers reported directly to MacAteer, and both had been involved in the suspicious deaths of the majority of the original Desert Storm unit. Both were also now dead, along with MacAteer who had done the honorable thing after discovering that the President had survived his assassination plot, and had blown his own brains out.

To ensure that no doubt remained in anybody's mind, John Taylor--the pool cleaner who had saved Peter--had picked both Brunson and Rayne out from a set of photographs.

She sighed. She might never learn the truth about Peter's involvement but the fact that he had betrayed her lay heavily upon her. At the time she had believed he was the one person in this whole world that she could trust--and he said he loved her. Her head came up at the light tapping on her door.

"Enter."

Faith dredged up a smile for her secretary and then noticed the high-ranking FBI official standing right behind her. Having spent the past five hours making a statement she thought they might give her a little more time before coming to her with additional questions.

"AD Morris... I thought we had agreed--"

"Yes, we had... but this isn't about your involvement in the conspiracy, at least not directly."

"I see. Well, please take a seat. Mary? Perhaps you can bring some coffee for the AD."

"No... thank you."

Faith waved Mary away and waited while the Assistant Director settled into the seat opposite.

"Now, how can I help you?"

He delved into his briefcase and produced a small Dictaphone, placing it on the desk between them. It was one of those tiny modern devices that Peter always favored when he took interviews. Morris reached back into the briefcase to retrieve a disk case. He removed a small metallic object the size of an MP3 disk and placed it inside the machine.

"As part of this ongoing investigation we were trying to link in the involvement of your ex-husband, Peter Scanlon. As you are aware, Mr. Scanlon was discovered face down in his pool at the time of your second attempt to contact him. What wasn't revealed was that the investigators at the scene discovered a Dictaphone, similar to this one, lying in the alley at the base of the building. Although damaged, our experts were able to lift 80 percent of the data contained on the disk it contained."

Faith waited, unsure why Morris was telling her all of this, and he carried on.

"It details a meeting Scanlon had with General MacAteer at ten o'clock yesterday morning... and the conversation he had with Major Brunson at the time of his attempted murder."

"I see."

Morris reached out and hit the playback and Faith felt her heart skip a beat as she heard Peter's soft voice, recalling their sexy telephone call... was it only two nights ago? There was something about his voice that she had always loved, even after their marriage broke up, whether he spoke to her on the phone or whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She pulled back from those thoughts to concentrate on the static-filled words.

'Mr. Scanlon. So pleased you could make it.'

Faith sneered, recognizing the insincerity in MacAteer's voice even through the static.

'Gen.....Ateer'

'Now, I'm a busy man so let's... to know.'

'The MC111 case curr... Judge Mattis. Is there a possibility that the soldiers in questions are... truth? Could there be a conspiracy withi... litary?'

'That would be absurd. I expect to see... case thrown out.'

'Oper... Glory.'

'What did you say?'

'I think you heard me, Gener...'

There was more static-filled silence before General MacAteer spoke again.

'What... know about Operation Glor..?"

'That it might involve armament shipme... drugs, and be a high leve... spiracy within...'

'Why are you tell... this?'

'I want the scoop. I want to break the news to... erican people.'

'Why come to me?'

'Beca... sources say you are head.... invest... tion into the consp...'

'I see.'

Faith reached across and paused the playback.

"He didn't know. Peter didn't know MacAteer was the mastermind behind the conspiracy, behind Operation Glory."

Morris nodded slowly.

"The rest of the disk confirms that MacAteer asked him to keep the investigation under wraps. He promised Scanlon the opportunity to break the story with all the known facts once the General had issued arrest warrants for the conspirators. It's why your ex-husband contacted MacAteer after your initial call rather than taking the information to Judge Virgil as you requested. He thought he was doing the right thing... for himself, for the investigation, and for you."

"But he knew too much--or he would have done when I mysteriously disappeared or met with an untimely death."

"Yes."

"So MacAteer sent Brunson and Rayne to dispose of another risk."

"Yes." Morris looked away for a moment but his eyes were gleaming when he looked back. "Later, Brunson didn't know Scanlon was recording their conversation so Brunson told him everything. Told him it was MacAteer running the operation, even mentioned the names of a few senators involved in the conspiracy... and then he told Scanlon that he'd just signed *your* death warrant."

Morris picked up the player.

"I think Scanlon overplayed his hand when he realized you were in danger, and revealed that he'd recorded everything. A boot heel had been used to crush the machine but, fortunately for us, Brunson or Rayne was unaware that the recording facility on this particular model is a disk rather than a chip. They must have dropped it over the side of the building in the belief that the fall would destroy it completely, not expecting anyone to recover it."

"I'd like to listen to the rest... in private."

Morris stood up and carefully placed the small machine back down on the desk.

"Sure. I expected that. This is a copy with certain data and names removed... so you can hold onto it, though I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the remaining information is still pertinent to an ongoing federal investigation so--"

"Yes, of course."

She stood up and shook hands with Morris, waiting patiently as he was escorted from her chambers before she re-pressed the playback. A smile curved her lips as she listened to the familiar soft voice but the smile faltered as she heard Peter trying to barter with Brunson... not for his own life, but for hers.

'I love you' he had said but, only now, did she realize exactly how much.

She thought of Conor Gallagher, her bodyguard who had saved her life several times in the space of these past two days. She cared for him too but, somehow, she knew she wasn't in love with him for Peter still had a hold of her heart. If not for the divorce then they would have been married five years and, with sudden insight, Faith realised that she had been the one to break up their marriage. She had been the one who had been unwilling to compromise, the one who had been unwilling to take a chance on them succeeding in marriage where her own parents had failed so abysmally. She had been so afraid of waking up one day with the knowledge that the love between them had died that she'd run away.

And now it's too late, she thought.

With bitter regret shaking her to the core, she slipped on her jacket and crossed to the door, stopping by her secretary's desk as she exited her chambers.

"Mary, I'm going to the hospital. Reschedule all my appointments for another day... and send my apologies."

"Yes, Ma'am."

-ooOOoo-

Without his glasses he looked incredibly young and innocent, lying there so still and quiet in the oversize hospital bed. It reminded her of all the times when she had awoken early just to watch him sleep. The crescent of long dark lashes rested against his cheeks and his short dark hair was spiked and mussed against the white pillowslip. Faith could see the edges of the bandage covering the lump on the back of his head and knew that this could have as much to do with him being in a coma as the drowning. It could have been far worse though. She knew the only reason why Brunson had not caved in his skull was because the Major had hoped to make it look as if Peter had tripped, banging his head as he fell into the pool... and then drowned.

She thought about the pool cleaner who'd been there at just the right time; a man who'd known how to deal with a victim of drowning. She could only wait and hope that his timing had been good enough to give him life-saving air before his brain had been starved too long of oxygen. Whatever the outcome, Faith already knew that she wouldn't abandon Peter again. If nothing else then these past two days had shown her that you had to grab at happiness while you can as it could all be snatched away in an instant.

If he came out of the coma...

No, she corrected herself, *when* he came out of the coma, then if there *was* brain damage she'd look after him, and she would make sure that he knew how much she loved him every day.

And if, by a miracle, he should be granted a full recovery, then she'd wait to see what he wanted, but Faith would make sure he knew that she was ready to commit herself fully to their marriage -- if he would have her back.

She reached out and held his hand, rubbing her thumb across the knuckles in strokes that she hoped would be as soothing to him as they were to her. Only now did she realize how much she had missed the feel of him; the warmth of his flesh and of his heart.

Tomorrow she would return the small dolphin necklace that Gallagher had asked her to take care of and then she would come back here and wait for Peter's beautiful green eyes to open. In the meantime, she wanted Peter to know that he had a reason to come back.

With gentle words, Faith began to tell him all the things she'd kept from him, all her fears from the past and her desires for the future. She paused momentarily as she felt the slightest pressure of his fingers against hers, gaining a little more hope. With a lighter heart she carried on talking to him softly, telling him how much she still loved him; how much she wanted to make love with him, and making him a promise that she'd say it all over again as soon as he woke up.

-ooOOoo-

Epilogue:

Peter laughed when Gallagher's daughter, Ella, splashed water into his face. He loved coming to the Lido especially with the Gallaghers for they were always so good to him. He heard Faith laughing and he looked across, catching her self-indulgent expression; the one she always got when she saw he was happy. She swam into his arms and kissed him on the tip of his nose, making Ella giggle.

Conor Gallagher grabbed hold of his wife, Samantha, and planted an affectionate kiss on her lips much to Ella's increased pleasure but then both women darted away. They played with Ella while Peter looked on with Conor, and he grinned when Conor slapped him on the shoulder. They both loved to see Ella happy; loved to hear her childish laughter, and Peter knew that most of her happiness stemmed from having her parents back together again after a separation of almost two years.

Down's Syndrome was the term used to denote Ella's disability, but he wasn't certain what term they used to describe his own. His smile faltered for a moment but then he grinned again when Ella's renewed splashing caught his attention. He knew he wasn't quite the same man as he had been before the drowning. He was easily distracted, though knowing this made little difference no matter how hard he tried not to let his attention wander. It was frustrating, especially as he could remember the complicated things he used to do and the high tech places where he used to work. Sometimes he could sense echoes of his former razor-sharp thinking and strong intellect but they remained elusive, dancing just beyond his reach. Other times he'd meet someone who knew him from before; someone who hadn't heard about the incident. On those occasions all he wanted to do was crawl away in embarrassment as he watched their expressions turn from shock to pity.

He knew he and Faith had been divorced before the incident, but he knew that he'd not wanted their marriage to end, and that he loved her with all of his heart. Still, he sometimes doubted why she had come back to him, scared that it had been out of pity and guilt. He didn't want her to feel obligated to him. After all, he was just a little slow now--not stupid. He did understand what was happening in the world around him; could still grasp difficult concepts, though he couldn't argue them quite so persuasively as before, needing far more time to formulate his arguments. Equally important, he could still go to a store and buy groceries without too many problems... as long as he didn't get distracted.

The doctors had been amazed by his recovery, having assumed the worst, but they all agreed that he would never get any better than this.

Peter moved over to the side of the pool and pulled himself out of the water, sitting on the edge as he watched the others playing.

Faith told him he had been in a coma for almost a month and that it had been as much a result of the blow to the back of his head as to oxygen deprivation. She reminded him, often, how overjoyed she'd been when he finally woke up. She would talk of how grateful she had been when he recognized her, and how happy she had been when he revealed that his love for her still existed and was as strong as ever.

He shook his head in bewilderment.

There was never any doubt in her mind that they belonged together, and she was always willing to prove this whenever his fears resurfaced. It was if she had spent all that time while he was sleeping resolving her own feelings. He sighed again and grinned as Ella showed off how well she could swim.

"Hey, Peter! How are you doing?"

Peter cringed for a moment and then realised that this was no chance meeting of someone he might have known in the before-days.

"John," he grinned back at the man who had saved his life on that fateful day, knowing he also had John to thank for his lack of fear in the water. The hospital had sent him to the pool for physiotherapy and, though he had no actual memory of drowning as he'd been unconscious when he hit the water, he had retained a strong fear of it. John had coaxed him in, holding him so securely in those strong arms and never letting him feel a moment of insecurity. Even after the hospital released him, Faith would bring him to the pool each week where John would be waiting. Now, after seven months, he no longer needed John's physical presence beside him in the water but it felt good to know that the man was still there and watching out for him. But John had become far more than just the man who had saved his life. He was also his friend now.

"I'm doing fine, though better for seeing you."

"How's the book going?"

"I sent the first four chapters to an old friend in the publishing arena, and they've given me an advance to have the rest completed by the end of the October. They seem convinced it'll make the best seller list as long as they can have it in print by Christmas."

"Sounds good. Just remember you promised me an autographed copy once it's published."

"Well, that's the least I can do."

"John!"

Peter turned to see one of the other guards calling out to his friend.

"Oh... gotta go. Gotta class waiting for me."

"Okay... just don't be a stranger, John. You know you're welcome over any time."

"You just want someone to clean out your pool on the cheap," he grinned broadly and winked, knowing it was a joke they shared between them.

Peter laughed and kicked the water hard, sending a plume of spray towards John but he dodged it with a laugh and sauntered away.

"You okay?"

Glancing down, Peter realised that Faith had swum up beside him. She looked at him askance for a moment, satisfied that he was all right despite his lack of an answer.

"You know, Peter, we haven't had any sexy chatter over the phone for a week. What say we get out of here and remedy that situation."

He grinned wolfishly as he remembered the games they played; games that Faith had reinstated so impishly soon after his release from the hospital. He felt his body react to the thought of this familiar game and he laughed softly as she climbed out of the pool and retrieved his towel from the side to cover his embarrassment.

"Sounds good to me."

Somehow, it no longer mattered that he wasn't the Peter Scanlon that had met and fallen in love with Faith Mattis all those years ago. All that did matter was that he was the man she wanted to be with now. With a fond farewell to the Gallaghers, Peter smiled in pure pleasure as Faith linked her arm in his and, together, they made their way out of the pool, eagerly looking forward to a night of loving in each other's arms.

THE END

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UPDATED: 24th May 2002


End file.
